


Small Favours

by narsus



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-12
Updated: 2011-07-12
Packaged: 2017-10-21 08:12:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/222969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narsus/pseuds/narsus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Martin expects is to get on a shuttle-bus to the airport and then go home.  What he doesn’t expect is to be told that Gertie is now over 200 miles away at a different airport, and that he'd better get there or else.  Of course Douglas has the solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Favours

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Cabin Pressure belongs to John Finnemore and BBC Radio 4.

Martin isn't sure if he's annoyed or just plain hysterical when he talks to the concierge that morning. He's checking out of yet another budget hotel, expecting to find both Douglas and Arthur downstairs in the lobby, waiting for him. Instead, he's told that his colleagues have left and that his CEO has left explicit instructions that he needs to get himself to JFK in time for take-off. He's in Washington, at least a four hour drive away. They _landed_ in Washington. He went to bed believing that that's where they'd be taking off from the next day. In fact, when he thinks about it, he's not even certain that it's legal for Carolyn to have moved the plane overnight. Douglas may well be qualified to fly Gertie by himself but not so soon after a transatlantic flight. Perhaps he is panicking, or at least it seems like it when he finds himself sitting in one of the lobby chairs with the concierge standing over him and asking if he's alright.

“Alright? How am I meant to be-” He cuts himself off before his voice can rise any higher. “Sorry. Sorry. I'll just- it's fine. _Fine_. I'll just- It's fine. Thank you.”

The concierge sidles away, giving him a dubious glance but Martin decides that he's going to be sensible for once and do the obvious. He rings Carolyn. She'll have something to say to him, orders to give about getting to their new departure point. She has to. It's all going to be fine. It has to be.

Unfortunately, one phonecall later he's no more enlightened and in fact, a good deal more frantic than he initially had been before. Carolyn is absolutely determined that he be at JFK for take-off but she's refusing to fund either a taxi or a hire-car or anything else that Martin can think of. He has to cover the cost himself, _pay_ for it himself, and if he doesn't get there in time he doesn't even dare consider what she might do. He certainly doesn't have the money to cover it himself but he has to try something at least. He phones Douglas out of sheer desperation.

“Ah, Captain, I was wondering when you might-”  
“Shut up, Douglas. You've got to help me. I'm stuck in Washington.”  
“Most unfortunate but I don't see what sir's predicament has to do with-”  
“ _Please_ Douglas. You know people! You have to- I'll-” He breaks off with a sob.

He can feel his breathing speeding up, knows that he's close to hyperventilating in panic, so it takes him a few seconds to catch what Douglas is saying.

“... at the check-in desk. They'll sort everything out for you.”  
“Really?” He can't keep the disbelief out of his voice.  
“I personally guarantee it. And Martin?”  
“Yes?”  
“Please calm down. We're not going anywhere without you. I, for one, would rather depart _with_ a Captain beside me-”  
“Oh... that's.... that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me.” The words are out of Martin's mouth before he can stop himself.  
Douglas chuckles, in a surprisingly good-natured fashion. “I'll see you shortly, Martin.”

Getting to the airport is the easy part but as soon as Martin reaches departures he starts to panic again. What if Douglas' contact isn't able to help him out? What if he's stuck here with the looming threat of whatever it is that Carolyn's going to do? What if... he doesn't even know anymore but there really is only one way to find out. The check in desk number that Douglas has given him seems miles away but he drags his flight bag behind him resolutely. He can't help wondering if Carolyn might fire him, if she's deliberately set this up as an opportunity for him to fail. It's a paranoid thought but he can't help himself. The move from one airport to another seems too ridiculous. He can't think of a single reason why she might do something like that. Obviously, it's saving her money but he can't even imagine how.

The check-in desks loom large before him and Martin hunches his shoulders against the curious glances he receives. He's wearing his uniform of course, he expected to simply get on a hotel shuttle-bus to the airport and go home. People are staring but he can't really do anything about that so he squares his shoulders and is about to simply join the regular queue when someone calls his name.

“Captain Crieff?”  
“Yes. Yes, that's me.” He peers at the pretty CSA quzically.  
She smiles brightly, a perfect customer service smile. “You can check in over here.”

Martin blinks in surprise but doesn't question his luck. If the ground crew are telling him to check-in at the First Class desk then he can only suppose that Douglas has pulled more strings than expected. Not that he expects that he’ll actually be flying anything more than economy but they do have a reservation for him after all and he's directed to the lounge, which he dutifully heads along to.

The First Class lounge turns out to be the sort of thing that Martin's sure someone like Douglas must be accustomed to. It's the sort of place that he personally wouldn't be likely to see unless it's in photographs. They provide him with breakfast, and there are a vast array of snacks and drinks should he choose to supplement it. He's just finished his breakfast when his phone rings and Douglas' familiar voice greets him at the other end of the line.

“Douglas? This is- I can't thank you enough.” He says rapidly.  
“Only the best for sir, of course.” Douglas sounds amused.  
“Thank- thank you.” Martin stammers again, feeling himself blush.

He doesn't even know quite what he says before he hangs up in the end. He's overwhelmed by what Douglas has managed this time and all he can think to do is stammer his thanks. He's still wondering just what it was that he said to Douglas when the boarding announcement finally comes and he makes his way down to the gate in a state of confusion. Even at the gate, he's ushered into the shorter queue and greeted politely as he boards the plane. There's no spare crew seat for him and instead he finds himself in one of the nine luxurious First Class seats where he's offered champagne before take-off, a choice of newspapers and a rather elaborate menu, should he require it. None of the crew bat an eyelid at his captain's uniform though he does notice that one or two of them let their gazes linger as he sits down.

It's a novelty to be able to be able to enjoy a take-off, not having to do anything personally such as worry about the wing balancing or the speed or the angle of elevation. The scant few other passengers, as far as he can tell, don't even bother to look out of the windows but he does, allowing himself to linger over the view, staring out over the early morning lights of Washington National Airport in breathless delight. The thought crosses his mind that these seats in this sparsely populated cabin are so discreet, so separate, that it would be very easy to join the mile high club in one, without a second thought. The idea is scandalous of course, but he can't help but picture it in his mind, titillated by the idea of lying back in his seat while another man bends over him. Closing his eyes, allowing himself a moment to enjoy the fantasy, Martin adds more vivid details to the fantasy. He can almost feel a large hand sliding across his stomach, a solid body on top of him, Douglas' honeyed tones, as the other man whispers filth into his ear. The last part jolts him out of the fantasy abruptly. Douglas is the last person he should be thinking of in those sorts of circumstances. He can feel his cheeks heating rapidly. After all, Douglas is straight, and even if he wasn't, he's never given any indication that he thinks of Martin has anything other than a co-worker to tease. Thankfully, the drinks service begins again and Martin allows himself to be distracted from his troubling thoughts.

Unfortunately, coffee and some sliced fruit later, all he can think of coherently is how marvellously _large_ Douglas' hands are, and how the rest of him must be equally proportioned. He's also reached the point of worrying that the cabin crew know what he's thinking if their looks are anything to go by, when one of then finally approaches him. The conversation is confused and Martin finds himself agreeing that Douglas is certainly remarkable and that he enjoys flying with him before the chief air steward leaves him be, parting with a knowing look. Thankfully, when the second offer of drinks comes round, Martin just about has the common sense to ask for a mug of camomile tea which manages to do the trick by knocking him out for the next twenty minutes, sparing him further cross-examination.

On arrival at JFK he's so consumed by embarrassment that he can't concentrate on much else. Immigration flies by and Martin is standing in departures again before he knows it. He can't even remember passing though the necessary connecting checks and that's enough to worry him until Douglas makes an appearance. Of course, being Douglas, he can't just announce himself. No, he has to rest a large palm in the small of Martin's back as he rattles of the usual, oh, so smooth greeting. Martin can feel himself flushing in embarrassment but he doesn't dare pull away, for fear of Douglas' laughter.

“I trust sir had a good flight?” Douglas' tone seems to hold more laughter than usual.  
Martin squirms. “Yes, most... most- it was very good.”  
“And I trust that the cabin crew treated sir with the respect that he deserves?”  
“I- yes! Yes, it was fine. Everyone was very...”  
“Considerate?” Douglas queries, with a teasing smile.

Martin swallows uncomfortably and almost in answer, Douglas' hand presses lightly into the small of his back.

“They did ask some funny questions.” Martin ventures.  
“Oh?”  
“About you mostly.”  
“I'm flattered. And what, may I ask, did sir deign to share with them?”

Martin hesitates. He does have a straightforward answer but he's almost certain that there is another conversation going on here. A conversation that Douglas and the cabin crew seem to be involved in, that has next to nothing to do with his own input.

“What did you tell them? About...” It’s a stupid question Martin’s certain, regretting it even as the words leave his lips.  
Surprisingly, Douglas seems to take it seriously. “What did I tell them? That sir was a very important personage and that I required his presence here post-haste.”  
“A ‘very important personage’?”  
“Of course.”  
Suspicion starts to dawn. “Did you tell them that I was your co-pilot?”  
“No, I don’t recall that I did.”  
“Oh. Then they... they thought that...”

Somehow the sense of humiliation is worse that he’s expected, not that he regularly wonders what it must be like to be mistaken for Dougas’ boyfriend. It’s just that sometimes he does catch himself wondering. It’s usually the little things that set off that train of thought, the small kindnesses, casual touches, the familiar way that Douglas smiles, but it’s just a fantasy, it’s nothing real. Martin quickly turns away from Douglas’ knowing look and then steps away from his touch. This has already gone on for too long and it won’t do him any good wallowing in either his own fantasies or tolerating Douglas’ humour at them.

“Look, I know you think this is funny but-“  
“My apologies, dear. I would have woken you up but you just looked so-“  
“Douglas!”  
“I’m sure I can make it up to you when we get home.”

Douglas’ arm is around his waist this time and that knowing smile is wider than ever, but oddly, Douglas is actually sounding rather sincere, at least so Martin thinks. Of course it’s impossible and Douglas simply has to be teasing again but it can’t hurt to play along, surely? Just this once.

“I expect you to buy me dinner first.”  
Douglas’ smile widens. “But of course.”  
“And I don’t mean pizza. I’ll... I’ll have you know that I’m high maintenance!”  
“I wouldn’t expect anything else.”  
“Douglas... did you just...?”  
“Yes, Martin, I did just manipulate you into agreeing to go on a date with me.”

**Author's Note:**

> American Eagle operate a route, on behalf of American Airlines, from Washington (DCA) to New York (JFK) as part of the One World Alliance program. One of the planes that currently flies that route is a Canadair Regional Jet 700, which does only have 9 First Class seats. The flight time is normally just over an hour.


End file.
